Orjeta: Poems

Apr 13 · 169

“ Existing place “

Orjeta Apr 13

“ Existing place “

“There exists a place called Earth, where the battle for equality is far from over.”

Earth 🌍

Mar 25 · 100

“If I Had Been a Boy”

Orjeta Mar 25

“If I Had Been a Boy”

If I had been a boy, maybe they would have liked me.
Maybe I would have been accepted—respected, even.
But I was born a girl.
And somehow, my blonde hair, my glowing skin, my warm smile,
and the kindness in my heart became reasons for ridicule.
They call it attention, but it feels like harassment.
They call it teasing, but it feels like abuse.

Sometimes, I wonder…
Was I born wrong?
Or is the world just wrong for making us feel this way?!

#discrimination #male #female

Mar 23 · 40

The Barrier to a Better World

Orjeta Mar 23

The Barrier to a Better World

Life is undeniably beautiful—if not for certain people.
Those who lack substance yet pass judgment.
Those who wake only to disrupt, never to build.
Those unwilling to evolve yet resistant to wisdom.
The fanatics, prisoners of their own narrow minds.
When such individuals hold power, a better world remains a distant dream.

Mar 18 · 516

Alone!

Orjeta Mar 18

Alone!

“ I don’t know if I will emerge stronger, weaker, or as someone entirely new—but I do know that once again, I face this alone.”

Mar 6 · 88

The Names Will Stay

Orjeta Mar 6

The Names Will Stay

At least the names will always stay,
etched in ink, unchanged, unchanged.
No tide of time, no drift, no day
will shift the echoes once arranged.

They rest within my contracts sealed,
bound to the moments that we knew—
not to the faces time revealed,
but to the souls I journeyed through.

For who they were is who remains,
not who they grew to be, afar.
The past is carved in steady names,
not scattered by the shifting stars.

#memory #life

Feb 26 · 87

In Warm Tears

Orjeta Feb 26

In Warm Tears

I feel cold, even when the sun shines,
My body shivers, my heart feels distant,
But my warm tears remind me I’m alive,
A small comfort in the emptiness.

I feel judged, watched by eyes that don’t care,
Their words cut, even when they don’t speak,
But my tears don’t judge me,
They fall quietly, knowing my pain.

I feel like I don’t belong,
Surrounded, but always alone,
Like I’m speaking a language no one understands,
But my tears listen, flowing softly.

I feel weak, tired of pretending,
Exhausted by the weight I carry,
But my warm tears are honest,
They tell the truth I hide.

I feel sick, something heavy inside,
A darkness that drains my strength,
My tears grow cold, losing their warmth,
Reflecting the chill within me.

I feel left behind,
People move on, their lives continue,
I stay stuck, watching them go,
But my cold tears stay with me, loyal in my loneliness.

I feel dead inside,
Empty, numb, nothing left to give,
My tears are dried, no more warmth, no more cold,
Just the silent marks they left behind.

#love #hope

Feb 21 · 74

My last trip

Orjeta Feb 21

My last trip

I saw oceans stretch to touch the sky,
Seas that whispered ancient lullabies,
Rivers that danced to nature’s tune,
Lakes reflecting a silver moon.

I felt happiness bloom like spring,
Joy that made my spirit sing,
Peace as soft as morning dew,
A stillness deep, profound, and true.

I felt pain carve lines within,
Cried tears for what had been,
Sadness heavy as a storm,
Cold and fierce, without a form.

My last trip, a journey vast,
I met people whose shadows cast,
I met souls both pure and bright,
I met devils cloaked in light.

I met the mean who wore kind smiles,
I walked with them for miles and miles,
I saw truth behind the guise,
I saw love in broken eyes.

My last trip, I lived it all,
I soared high, I felt the fall,
I touched the sun, I kissed the rain,
I danced with joy, I wept with pain.

I tasted life, bitter and sweet,
I walked on fire, felt cold defeat,
I learned to rise, learned to let go,
Learned that endings help us grow.

And now, as dusk begins to creep,
I close my eyes, embrace the deep,
For all I’ve seen, and all I’ve known,
I do not wish to journey home.

My last trip—I’ve lived, I’ve died,
In every breath, in every stride,
I found myself, I lost my way,
And in the end, I’m here to stay.

#lasttrip #life

Feb 19 · 123

21:34

Orjeta Feb 19

21:34

The clock stays still, yet time drags on,
a heavy hush where light is gone.
Minutes stretch like endless roads,
nights too vast, too full, too cold.

A storm inside, no calm, no shore,
a weary heart that beats no more.
Eyes too tired to see the dawn,
a soul that lingers, barely drawn.

Fingers frozen, breath so thin,
trapped in time, locked within.
Aching bones and hollow air,
the weight of sorrow everywhere.

Yet still—
21:34.

#life #love #sad

Feb 16 · 62

Running Honest

Orjeta Feb 16

Running Honest

I ran with an open heart,
barefoot on the path of truth,
chasing the light I once carried,
never fearing the dark.

But honesty is a quiet fire,
and not all hands that reach for it
come with warmth—some only seek
to steal its glow.

I welcomed them,
folded them into my journey,
let their laughter echo in my steps,
mistaking presence for purpose,
companionship for direction.

I ran faster, for them,
matched their pace,
forgot my own.

The wind whispered warnings,
but I mistook them for songs.
The road twisted, blurred,
and suddenly, they were ahead,
and I was lost.

Where had my steps gone?
Where was the fire I carried?
I looked for my reflection
and found only absence.

Running honest,
I ran too far from myself.
And in the distance,
somewhere behind me,
I left my smile.

#love #life

Feb 15 · 78

Ageless Life

Orjeta Feb 15

Ageless Life

Today, I woke up visibly older,
lines deepened like rivers in time.
Yet life stands untouched, unmeasured,
a quiet ghost without a chime.

Some mornings, I rise much younger,
soft as dawn, weightless and free.
Yet it is still this same old wonder,
an ageless dream inside of me.

Life is a puzzle, cruel and kind,
a whisper of loss, a burst of light.
It bends, it breaks, then heals in time,
a fleeting shadow, burning bright.

“To live is to carry the storm and the sun in the same hands—
to know sorrow like an old friend, yet still dance in the rain.”

#life #mystery

Feb 13 · 207

Love: A Beautiful Illusion

Orjeta Feb 13

Love: A Beautiful Illusion

This is not a love dedication—because it is not love.
It is a confirmation that “love” is an illusion; I saw it with my own eyes.
We are lost within this illusion, and only when we awaken from it - we feel truly ourselves.

It is a sweet game for our minds and a gentle “touch” for our hearts, but it remains an illusion.
I cannot say it does not exist—because as long as it deceives us, it is present.
Yet, it is an illusion that affects us, like an infection that must be healed.

Love may exist, but it is still an illusion. A mirage in the desert of our desires, a flickering light that vanishes when we reach for it. It is the most exquisite trick our hearts play on us, making us believe we have found something eternal—when in reality, it is nothing more than a fleeting shadow, a beautifully woven dream that dissolves upon waking.

And when we wake, we see the truth: we were never in love, only enchanted by the idea of it.

#love

Feb 13 · 55

Vita

Orjeta Feb 13

Vita

Sarai il mio diario,

pagine scritte dal tempo,

inchiostro di attimi sfuggiti

che forse nessuno leggerà mai.

Sarai la mia guida,

sentiero che si piega e si perde,

orizzonte che si allontana

ogni volta che credo di averti compreso.

Sei l’illusione di una strada diritta,

il respiro di un sogno mai del tutto svelato,

sei domanda senza risposta,

sei risposta senza certezza.

Ti rincorro e mi sfuggi,

ti trovo e già non sei più la stessa.

Sei attesa e sorpresa,

sei il mistero che vive

tra il primo respiro e l’ultimo battito.

Eppure, anche se non ti capisco,

ti vivo.

E nel caos dei passi incerti,

tra i silenzi e le voci che si dissolvono,

nell’eterno gioco di chi cerca e si perde,

sarai tu.

Avrai un nome,

una vita,

nella mia vita.

#vita

Feb 12 · 68

I pezzi che brillano

Orjeta Feb 12

I pezzi che brillano

Forse in guerra non sono stata mai,

solo battaglie sussurrate al vento,

ombre incerte tra passi stanchi,

un labirinto senza nome.

Forse la guerra l’** fatta con me,

un assedio muto, un varco chiuso,

** spento il giorno con le lacrime,

** seminato strade senza ritorno.

Mi sono allontanata, smarrita, persa,

come eco che non trova casa,

come sabbia scivolata via

da mani troppo ferme.

Eppure i pezzi rimasti brillano,

lucciole senza una notte,

scintille che cercano spazio

o forse solo un confine.

Dove portano, non so.

Se guidano o ingannano, non so.

Resto ferma a osservarli,

o forse sto già camminando.

Forse in guerra non sono stata mai.

#notte #mistero

Feb 12 · 134

Che vuoto nel Cuore

Orjeta Feb 12

Che vuoto nel Cuore

Che vuoto nel cuore

Mi ha lasciato la vita,

un buco profondo che ingoia il respiro,

che si allarga ad ogni notte silenziosa,

ad ogni sogno sfiorito all’alba.

Nella lotta per non perdere

l’unica cosa preziosa - la dignita-

** smarrito me stessa,

come un’ombra che si scioglie al tramonto,

come un nome dimenticato dal vento.

E nella strada per ritrovarmi

** perso tutto.

** lasciato pezzi di me

sui cigli delle strade deserte,

sui passi che non hanno più casa.

Che vuoto nel cuore

mi ha lasciato la vita,

eppure, ancora respiro.

#cuore

— The End —